


Idiot

by feyjewels



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adultery, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Season/Series 03, but it's cute and i couldn't imagine the scenario any other way, i apologize to mary fans, im a piece of shit, mary is a spy, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 19:44:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2162799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feyjewels/pseuds/feyjewels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is stubborn and John's tired of it. Cute things result.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Idiot

Sherlock entered the flat first, walking quickly and talking with his hands. He continued to ramble on concerning Moriarty as he had done the entire ride home from the airport, at least after they had dropped Mary off. John had made up the excuse that he and Sherlock needed to “look into some things” (which wasn’t really a lie anyway) and that she should go on home without him. John thought he had caught a flicker of suspicion in her eyes as she got out of the car, but it was gone in a flash, her cover still in tact.  
A few months ago John wouldn't have noticed it at all. That was before he knew who Mary really was and what she had done to Sherlock in Magnusson's office. During he and Mary's temporary separation, John and Sherlock had agreed on their “plan of action” concerning Mary. So far, it mostly consisted of John pretending like he didn’t suspect a thing about her past association with James Moriarty and his criminal web. John had also lied to Mary about the memory device; Sherlock had downloaded its contents as soon as John gave him permission. Once they had what they wanted, the memory device was disposable, John played the part of a loyal husband, and Mary (hopefully) didn't suspect a thing. That was her game, to keep John on her side, to keep him trusting her. Now that Moriarty was back, it was even more crucial to keep up the act. They weren't sure what part Mary would play in the future with Moriarty, but if Mary could play this game, so could they.  
Still, Sherlock rambled. “…So before we take any offensive action towards Moriarty, we need to completely neutralize Mary since she is obviously a threat to ourselves and others, but how to do that without alerting Moriarty that we know she is his spy? I suppose we could give her a surprise one-way ticket to Iceland or Cleveland and tell her to take some time off, but of course that would look suspicious if your mediocre acting hasn't given us away already. By the way, I have a few books on lieing somewhere in the flat if you can find them because you obviously need to work on your.. ” He finally trailed off when he noticed that John wasn't asking questions or protesting Sherlock’s insults as usual. Instead, he was staring at Sherlock intently with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall of the flat.  
Sherlock squinted slightly. “Why are you doing that?”  
“Doing what?”  
“That look, you’re giving me the look.”  
“What look?”  
“The, ‘I’m John Watson and Sherlock Holmes doesn’t know who the prime minister is’ look, you’re doing it right now.”  
“That’s just my face.”  
Sherlock huffed. “Haven’t we had this conversation before? Oh never mind,” he said, turning to climb the stairs into their living room to look for his books on deception.  
After a second, John spoke. “What were you going to say?”  
Sherlock paused, his back facing John. “What?”  
John pushed himself off of the wall he had been leaning against and took a few steps forward, hands clasped behind his back. “‘Sherlock is actually a girl’s name,’ you said,” he quoted as Sherlock turned to face him, eyes not quite meeting his. “Big long pause, pursed lips, possible last words and all that, and you decided to say, ‘Sherlock is actually a girl’s name.’ You were going to say something else, weren’t you?”  
Sherlock looked up, frowning slightly and attempting to look confused. “Why would I say something else?”  
“Don’t,” said John, taking another step forward, more confidant, slightly defiant, “Don’t lie to me, Sherlock. I know I'm shit at lieing but you’re not always the best actor either.”  
Sherlock looked like he was about to argue that point, but instead he rolled his eyes. “Even if I was going to say something besides what I said, it doesn’t matter. It wasn’t important.”  
John scoffed. “Wasn’t important? Big dramatic pause!”  
“Yes, yes, I was getting on a plane and leaving for six months, but I’m not anymore so it doesn’t matter,” Sherlock said, emphasizing the last two words. He tried to end the conversation by turning to go up the stairs again.  
John, however, wasn’t done. "Yes it does, of course it matters!”  
Sherlock turned to face him again, frustrated. “Why?”  
John looked at him in incredulously. “God, you really are a stubborn git!”  
“Oh for God’s sake.”  
“How come you can only talk to me when something big and tense is happening, hmm? Why can't we have a normal conversation? You had to pretend a bomb was about to blow us to kingdom come to apologize for letting me think you were dead for god's sake!” Sherlock groaned, but John continued. “And you were going to say something important on the tarmac but now you’re not because the situation is not important enough.”  
“Well the moment has passed, hasn’t it?” Sherlock said sarcastically.  
“You don’t understand, we have to communicate! If we’re going to pull of this thing with fooling both Mary and ultimately Moriarty, we’re going to have to be more honest with each other! I can’t wait for a stressful situation to come along to know what you’re actually thinking.”  
“Oh, and what about my apparently touching best man’s speech? That was the truth and that wasn’t a stressful situation.”  
“It was for you.”  
Sherlock, who had been moving around animatedly before, froze, as if he had been accused of something. John realized he had hit a chink in the armor so he continued gently. “I know that’s how you deal, Sherlock. You wait until the right moment and decide if you’re permitted to speak your mind to save face or protect yourself or whatever it is you do. And I understand that, I do it too. But I know you, don’t I?”  
“Yes,” Sherlock mumbled after a resigned sigh.  
“Then tell me what’s on your mind. You don’t have to be all big collar and mysterious coat around me, you don’t have to tiptoe.” John finished, crossing his arms again.  
Sherlock was looking down. His expression was soft, as if he was deciding something. After a second, he hardened, meeting John’s eyes again. “Like I said, it wasn’t important. What do you want me to say, John?”  
“I want…” John said, running a hand through his hair. “You know what, sod this, just, never mind. I don’t…” he said, turning towards the door.  
Sherlock immediately saw John's disappointment. Not only in his face, but in his shoulders and arms, in the way he walked. He had seen it in the flat when he insisted that he wasn’t a hero. He had seen in in Bart’s when John walked out, oblivious, saying, “No, friends protect people.” Each time, he had pushed John away. He knew that he was pushing John away again in this moment, and he knew if John walked out the door, he might lose him, maybe for good this time. The thought made Sherlock so full of fear, he couldn’t stop himself from saying what he said next.  
“I love you,” he blurted, immediately wincing at his own stupidity. Idiot, idiot, idiot!  
It was John’s turn to pause and face Sherlock. “What?”  
Sherlock looked down in defeat. “You heard me. Are you going to make me say it again?” he said softly, bitterly.  
John stared, his expression unreadable. Then, with purpose, he quickly walked towards Sherlock and grabbed him by the coat collar. Sherlock cringed, eyes closed tight, preparing himself to feel John’s fist.  
Instead, he felt his lips. He opened his eyes in surprise and there was John, eyes closed, kissing him. After a few seconds, John broke away, and opened his eyes to see Sherlock’s hilarious expression of utter shock. His lips were pursed as if he forgot the kiss had ended and the only function he remembered how to do was to blink. John shook his head, smiling. “You are such an idiot.”  
After a few more blinks, Sherlock regained the ability to speak. “I might be inclined to agree with you.”  
John started giggling, and soon Sherlock’s happiness won over his confusion and he laughed along, both of them smiling ridiculously. Soon, John was kissing Sherlock again, his hands moving from Sherlock’s coat lapels to the button-up underneath, his palms resting on Sherlock’s chest. Sherlock tentatively reached to touch John’s face, holding it in his hands as they learned how to kiss, how their noses and lips worked, how to breathe together without losing contact.  
Sherlock soon found himself against the wall, willing himself to stay focused and not get completely lost in John’s kisses. He remembered long ago categorizing different kissing techniques and the responses he received using them, as an experiment. He hadn’t gotten around to deleting the information yet since it did hold practical, persuasive value. And John seemed to be enjoying himself so Sherlock declared the experiment extremely successful.  
John also seemed to be reading his mind. “Did someone teach you how to kiss or did you have test subjects? Did you make them write down their responses and heart rate?” He teased gently, tracing Sherlock’s shirt buttons absentmindedly.  
“Mmm no, I memorized every reaction, paper wasn’t necessary, didn’t you guess?” He teased back, lightly playing with the hair on the back of John’s neck. It was a marvel to him that he could do this simple act, previously off-limits, unacceptable.  
John shook his head, chuckling. “You’re amazing. You’re amazing, and… I love you,” he said as if he couldn’t believe the words were coming out of his mouth. “I love you, and now that I have you, I’m not letting you go.” He gripped Sherlock’s shirt as if to prove his point.  
“John, you’ve always had me.” Sherlock put his hands over John’s.  
"Oh, so 'married to my work' is what you say to all the blokes." John smirked.  
"What?"  
"You knew I was interested, didn't you? That first night at Angelo's, you had to have noticed I was flirting with you."  
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "John, a dead man would have noticed."  
"So why did you make me think you weren’t available?"  
"I didn't know anything about you."  
"Sherlock, you knew everything about me from the moment you met me."  
"Yes, yes, I knew that you were an attractive, lonely army doctor with a pension for danger and death and a psychosomatic limp.” He paused as if he wanted to say more.  
“Yeah?” John prompted.  
Sherlock continued quietly. “I knew all of that but I didn't know that you were brave and kind or that you would kill for me or that, no matter what I did, you wouldn't leave me. I knew what you were, but it took me longer to deduce who you were, and even then I resisted because I'm a 'stubborn git' and I thought any advances I made would scare you off."  
"Sherlock, surely you know by now that there is basically nothing you could do that would scare me off."  
"Hmm... so I've noticed." Sherlock leaned in close, close enough for John to feel Sherlock’s breath on his lips. "Any thoughts of running?"  
"Only if you're coming with me." John said, taking Sherlock’s hands and leading him up the stairs.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, I tried my best to not disrespect Mary's character but I probably failed miserably. I just had to write a post-tarmac scene or I was going to explode.  
> Also whoever comments with the fanfiction I referenced and quotes the line I will check out your profile and love you forever.  
> Any grammatical mistakes, please let me know. <3


End file.
